


liferaft

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: All my works are self indulgent but this one really more so than others, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ashe dreams of death, but luckily Vaan is there to make things better.





	liferaft

It is like she is choking, like there is a physical hand that seizes her by the throat, pressing thumbs down into her windpipe until she finds herself awake – gasping and dazed, unable to focus. Surrounded by nothing but darkness that presses in from all sides. Even when she makes the conscious decision to leave on a light, it always managed to find itself extinguished.

And then it is just back to being her...

In the dark.

It's somehow always worse when she wakes up and it is dark.

Maybe that was because, without light, her other senses were furiously sharpened. She could hear nothing over the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears – coursing at such speeds that it made her ears ring, and high-pitched whine that eventually faded into white noise altogether. And then there was the feeling in her chest. Tight, like a rubber band had been wrapped around her ribcage and was being pulled too taut. Like a fist grabbing hold of her heart and squeezing it.

 _Heartache_ , sure. She recognized the feeling. But she hated it. She hated every moment of it. She always woke up from these nightmares, these  _memories_  of her husband's funeral, with her skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her hair sticking to the sides of her face. Her whole body is always weary. And she's filled with – longing, of some sort, something she doesn't have a balm for just yet. It is always that dejected feeling, the feeling of having fallen, and having no one to help you stand back up.

In the cold, quiet moments between waking and dreaming – which are for most, such soft moments but for her – so terrible and lonely – she feels very vulnerable. She knows that if she was able to wake up completely, to immediately jump into her senses, she would not feel this way. She was royal blood. She was bred to be strong, unwavering – like a steel blade, ready to cut down any enemy. But the only enemy here was insubstantial – her own mind, her own doubts and vicious, ugly fears. They raked ugly talons over her heart and made her cry out in agony. She didn't feel very much like Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca in the darkness. She just felt like Ashe.

And Ashe was a very young, lost woman.

Her head still felt so heavy, like someone had stuffed it full of cotton. She could still hear that high-pitched whining that dug its sharp fingers into her ears and made it difficult to get her bearings. She somehow manages to get out of bed and stagger out until she found herself standing in front of the small cabin aboard the airship that Vaan and Basch occupied together. Basch is somewhere in the room she knows, but he either doesn't notice her or pretends not to. She walks over to the side of Vaan's bed, picking up the edge of the top covers, gingerly, and peeling them away enough for her to slip underneath.

Vaan shifted his weight, adjusting to her presence while not even bothering to open his eyes. He adjusts with ease, a natural movement. He's more than likely only awake in the vaguest sense. But a ghost of a smile touches his lips, and his voice whispers in the darkness, "Penelo."

There it was, tightness again. But this time, in her throat. She wasn't offended. She had no reason to be – the two orphans had been close, and Ashe knew that her time was Vaan was nothing at all in comparison to the many years that Vaan and Penelo had spent together. Regardless of that fact, she felt something surge up her chest – like sparks flying up a chimney. She swallowed hard to keep it down. "No," she muttered. "Not Penelo."

She waited, a moment, to see if he was awake enough to even realize what she had said. Vaan shifted again, and she saw his eyelids crack – blue irises peering out at her from behind thick, dark lashes. It only lasted a moment, before his eyes snapped open and he was staring down at her, wide-eyed. "Ashe?"

"…Ashe."

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling him close like he was all she had. It was like she had been cut adrift, and he was the one thing within reach that she could catch hold of. The one thing she could cling to.

He still had a lot of questions, she could tell. But he also had enough sense to push them down, which was something she was grateful for. He shifted his weight yet again, enough to adjust his arm and pull her even closer. His movements were stiff, awkward – as if he wasn't sure he could touch her, or if he  _should_  touch her. She was a princess, after all. She was allowed to do whatever she wanted.  _She_  could come in here and touch  _him,_  but was he allowed to touch her, in return?

His ghost of a touch was comforting. She sighed, contented, her breath warm against his neck. He seemed to relax a little. She could feel him deflate a little beneath her which, in turn, put her marginally more at ease. She hadn't meant to startle him.

The world is back to being quiet, except now she is not alone. And the darkness around her is not so oppressive. It is still ominous, hovering. She feels like if she reaches out, fingers will spring from the dark and wrap around her own, drag her in and devour her. But here, next to Vaan, for whatever reason she is safe. If she keeps her palm pressed against his chest the bleakness of life will not swallow her. He is a life-raft. Her own.

She was so close to drifting off again. Her eyelids were so heavy, and it was so cool and dark…

"Bad dreams?" he asked. His voice brought her back around into the world of the waking, keeping her just coherent enough to respond.

"Awful dreams," she said.

He nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry," he said, although he still wasn't moving much. It was like he had found a position he was comfortable with and had decided that he was going to stay that way for the rest of his life. "I have them too, sometimes. Maybe we will get lucky, since we are together now, and we won't have any."

She didn't respond. In her head there were a thousand possibilities for a response, but none of them made it out. His voice, his presence, was already enough to put her at ease. She was so comfortable, now, she couldn't even think past anything except sleep. Precious sleep…

She drifted off. He didn't say anything more, but if he had, it would have faded into the dark with everything else. Even the pound and roar in her ears had subsided for now, and all that was left was just crisp, calm darkness.

He was right, though. Having fallen asleep against him, with her face buried in his neck and the rest of her tucked neatly against his side, Ashe had no more nightmares. Not that night.


End file.
